


Coming back to life

by MrsRidcully



Series: Dark Side of the Moon [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter, Anal Sex, Dom Stiles, Face-Fucking, Hurt Chris, Light BDSM, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Scenting, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Sub Chris, Switch Peter, Touch-Starved, a little Scott bashing, mentions of Gerard - Freeform, my stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 05:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/pseuds/MrsRidcully
Summary: Chris was just existing, floating on the edges of the pack, no one to care for and nothing to really fight for. Peter and Stiles decide it is time to take action.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bunnywest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/gifts).

> This came about as I really wanted to write something for Bunnywest as it is her fault I fell so hard for this fandom. I hope this my first real dabble in the Stetopher world is enjoyable. Who knew writing a gift fic would inspire my muse so much.  
An immeasurable thank you to @Greenie who fought the mess that is my writing <3

“Okay, my love, what is going on in that pretty head of yours?” Peter whispered into Stiles's ear, delighted to watch the red rise in his mate's cheeks, to smell the faint scent of arousal that hung around Stiles. Who had turned his lovely mate's head? 

Peter scanned the room, looking at each of the gathered pack members. He discounted Scott immediately -- the boy was a walking tsunami of unrequited love for Kira and Peter knew Stiles harboured no secret desires for the beta. Boyd and Erica were out, too; when Stiles was around them all Peter could sense was a wave of familial affection. Stiles loved those two as family. 

He looked around the room and spotted Derek looking broody as usual, actually strike that. His nephew had seemed suspiciously less moody the last few weeks, Peter suspected that had to do with the sweet-faced beta Isaac. Besides, Derek was a little too dominant natured for Stiles’s tastes. 

That was one of the delightful and surprising things he found out about his beloved spark: Stiles had a dominant streak a mile wide, and while Peter’s wolf was a little put off at first, since as an Alpha it was natural to expect others to submit to him, for him to dominate and control any situation. But with Stiles he found he revelled in the tussle, the battle of wills and bodies that often signified their lovemaking. 

It had come as a bit of a surprise when he realized he enjoyed submitting to Stiles, letting the burden of being the Alpha slip for a short time, but it was not a true submission and he knew that having someone who would truly relish giving up control was something they both hungered for. 

They had talked about the possibility of finding a third, finding one who would slot into their dynamic. Both agreeing on a sweet sub would be a preference, someone they could both devote hours to taking apart and putting back together, but also someone they could dote on. They would both never admit it but they each had a caring nature and one that needed an outlet. 

Peter slipped an arm around Stiles's waist and pulled him closer, nuzzling against the younger man's neck, still trying to work out who had caught his attention. 

Peters musings were broken by a raised voice “Don’t be a bigger idiot than you already are, Scott.” 

“You can’t say that Argent, I am the True Alpha and they will listen to me!” 

Chris shook his head eyes hard with anger. “No! He,” pointing at Peter, “is the Alpha. You? You're just a little boy playing at being Alpha. You think you can just walk into a Hunter gathering and ask politely for them to leave your pack alone?” 

Scott looked like a murderous and pouty schoolboy all rolled into one and Peter sniggered darkly against Stiles skin. “Oh I like when Christopher does that” 

Stiles whispered back, “What, put our puppy Alpha in his place or acknowledge you as Alpha?” 

“Both.” Peter let his eyes linger on the hirsute Hunter. The months since Allison's death had taken a toll. Chris looked like he had not eaten a proper meal in months. His eyes had lost their particular spark that Peter had always found mesmerizing. 

The scent of Stiles arousal hit him then he was looking at the hunter.  _ Interesting.  _

Scott started yelling again, directing his ire at Chris. “What are you going to do about it then? They marked you as a traitor the minute you stood up for Stiles and Peter!” 

Oh, Peter did not miss the bite in the young wolf’s words. He was still bitter about Chris declaring Peter the Alpha of Beacon Hills and Stiles his Emissary. 

Scott had raged and stormed off after that particular pack meeting; it was a memory Peter held very dearly. The hunter had proclaimed Peter Alpha without coercion or agenda and had then gone to the Hunters council and told them flat out they were to stay clear of Beacon Hills, and if they crossed Pack territory lines, Chris would kill them himself. 

There had been something very wolfish in the man at that moment and Peter was not ashamed to admit it did things to him, made him think of some wonderfully sinful scenarios. 

Chris stood from where he had been leaning against the wall and frowned, highlighting how drawn the man looked. “The Aiello Clan are not going to just back down. They have a reputation for violence beyond what is rational. They are zealots and bigots.” Chris fixed Scott with a steely glare. “They are coming here to wipe out the pack, and any other supernatural or human that gets in their way.” 

Scott roared and stepped up to the Hunter. “You just want to kill them, that’s all you have wanted to do since Allison's death. You have thrown your lot in with the Hales. You're pathetic!” 

Peter watched as the young Alpha puffed up and the Hunter seemed to draw into himself. That was another thing Peter had noticed more and more, for all his gruff confidence, Chris was a man with deep-seated self-worth issues, and Peter would bet his Patek Phillipe that was Gerard's doing. 

Peter stepped away from Stiles, but not before giving him a knowing look. “Scott, your inaction allowed these hunters to come in and murder an innocent coven. _ You _ allowed them to murder the ones you so loudly protest that you protect. NOW SHUT UP and let Christopher talk!” Peter's eyes flared red and his fangs dropped. Scott backed away from the hunter, shooting Peter a hostile glare. 

Chris gave Peter a grateful look. “The Aiello’s don’t care that Beacon Hills is now under the stewardship of a strong Alpha or that the Nemeton is now tied to his mate and Spark.” Chris took a breath. “They like the hunt, be it Werewolf or human, it's all the same to them. They love the pain they cause.” 

Stiles stepped forward, his eyes glowing softly. “What do you suggest, Chris?” 

Chris tilted his head again, reminding Peter of a wolf. “We hunt them before they hunt us, take them out before they know what is happening.” 

“You're talking about killing a whole group of people. This is wrong, can’t you see it?” Scott ranted. His anger was making the rest of the pack nervous. Isaac moved closer to Derek and Lydia, and Kira had already moved further away from the furious Alpha. 

“ _ Scott _ .” Stiles voice came out a hard growl. “I suggest you leave. Go find Theo and commiserate and bitch and moan like you normally do, and let the adults deal with this.” Stiles stood up straighter, his eyes glowing and his spark close to the surface. 

Peter smiled. Stiles was truly beautiful like this. He was always beautiful, but like this -- protecting one of his own -- he shone. 

Scott glared between the mated pair and Chris. “Lydia, Kira, are you coming?” 

Lydia gave a hard smile. "No, we’re good.” 

The rest of the evening passed relatively drama-free. Peter watched as Stiles make sure Chris had a full plate of food when the pack sat down to eat. When Chris tried to refuse the food, Stiles gave the hunter a firm look and arched a brow. Chris dropped his head, a small smile on his face, and ate. 

When Peter walked past and replaced Chris's empty whisky glass with a bottle of water, the hunter pouted. Peter shook his head and made him drink it instead. 

Peter had to hide a smirk when his clever mate ran his hand across Chris’s shoulder and the hunter unconsciously lent into Stiles touch. Peter had a deep suspicion the Hunter was more than a little touch starved. 

Stiles was not being subtle in his scent marking of the man. Stiles was human, but he acted like he was a born wolf, and Peter was so proud of him. 

When Chris let out a bone-cracking yawn, Peter pulled out a blanket and threw it over the hunter. “You’re too tired to drive home tonight Christopher.” Chris went to stand and Peter gently pushed him back down. “You stay the night. No argument.” 

Peter watched the hunter, waiting for him to reject the gentle dominance both he and Stiles had been using. Each mild insistence to eat or drink were his and Stiles’s way of testing Chris. 

Chris huffed and pulled the blanket over him not before fixing both Stiles and Peter with a tired glare. “I don’t know what you're up to, but I'm too tired to care.” 

“Nothing nefarious, Christopher, I can assure you.” Absently Peter ran his fingers through the hunter's hair and tugged slightly, pulling Chris’s head back so he could look him in the eye. Those startling blue eyes had always fascinated Peter, he had seen them icy with rage, and dazzling with merriment, the latter so seldom these days. Peter was roused out of his assessment of Christopher's eyes by Stiles’s firm voice. 

“We look after _our_ own” Peter did not miss how Stiles had emphasized the word _Our._

Stiles caught Peter’s eye across the room and a silent look passed between the two of them. Without a word passed, he knew he and Stiles agreed they would court the hunter and bring him into their home and bed. 

___________________________________________________________

A soft snore from the lounge indicated that Chris had already drifted off. It made Peter preen that the hunter felt safe enough with them to fall asleep in an Alpha’s den. 

Leading Stiles upstairs to their bedroom, Peter pulled Stiles to him. “So we agree then, we want Christopher?” 

Stiles tilted his head allowing Peter to press open-mouthed kisses along his throat. "I think, Alpha of mine, you are way too clever and perceptive. But yes. We want Chris.” Stiles brought a hand up, pulling Peters face close to his. Leaning in, he kissed the Wolf hungrily, nipping Peter’s bottom lip hard enough that Peter hissed in pleasure and pain. He smiled. “We let this play out carefully, test the waters first.”

“I'm always careful.” Peter grinned into the next kiss, kissing Stiles deeply, chasing that taste of Stiles that so intoxicated him, before moving back to mark Stiles’s throat with his mouth and teeth. 

“No Peter, you're not, but in this, you will be.” There was that hint of power behind Stiles words that always made Peter’s stomach swoop in a pleasant way. “But would he submit to us, would he trust us like that?” Stiles thought out loud as Peter leaned down to suck a bruise into Stiles's throat. 

Stiles placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders and pushed down. Peter willingly dropped to his knees. He could never resist when Stiles was like this, his wolf found something incredibly fulfilling in pleasing his mate this way, submitting to Stiles in an act of trust and love. 

Sometimes he would make Stiles work for his submission, fight and brat, but tonight he could smell the arousal coming of Stiles in waves. Tonight he wanted Stiles to push him over the edge and make him fly. 

He let out a slight moan when he dropped to his knees, the butt plug Stiles had put in him earlier brushing wickedly against his prostate. Looking up he could see a smile on his mate's face. 

“That feel good, babe?” 

Peter nodded. It did feel good, but was also frustrating. Stiles had also decided tonight Peter had to wear the cock cage, the abominable device a punishment for an earlier indiscretion. The cage was a reminder to Peter to listen to his mate. It was both a pleasure and a torment. With Stiles, he had found the joy of denial, of waiting for one's pleasure. 

“Bet you wish it was my cock splitting that pretty hole of yours. Maybe if you please me, I’ll replace the plug with my cock.” Stiles tilted Peter’s face up so he was looking him in the eye. "Maybe I’ll leave the cage on you and fuck the come out of you, bend you over the bed take you hard. Then when you’re howling, I’ll flip you over and fuck you again, fuck you 'til you’re coming dry.” Stiles's eyes glowed softly, the lavender of his spark leeching out over his skin. 

“Please do it,” Peter was lost to his arousal and gasped when a strong hand grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back. 

“Please what, Pup?” 

“Please, Sir, use me.” Peter's eyes had slid shut, losing himself to the feelings. He heard the zipper of Stiles’s jeans, then felt Stiles’s thumb running over his lips. 

“Open that perfect mouth for me, Pup.” 

Peter did and moaned as he felt Stiles’s cock slide past his lips and keep going, not giving Peter a chance to adjust. Stiles knew Peter liked it rough and dirty sometimes, and tonight he was getting what he wanted. 

Peter's eyes watered as he felt the head of Stiles’s cock hit his throat, the gentle rocking of Stiles’s hips pushing it deeper until all Peter could smell was Stiles’s musky aroma as pubic hair tickled Peter's nose. 

Stiles waited a beat until Peter's head started to swim from lack of oxygen, then pulled out only to thrust back in again. He set a brutal pace and all Peter could do was let Stiles use him. 

Saliva dribbled out of Peter’s mouth and tears streamed from his eyes. The heavy weight of Stiles’s cock in his mouth combined with his scent in Peter's nose was heaven. As Peter rocked with Stiles’s thrusts, the plug in his ass kept prodding his prostate. The mixture of sensations drove Peter to the edge of coming. 

Suddenly the cock was gone from his mouth and Peter felt lifted and thrown over the foot of the bed. Stiles's hands were on him, words of praise and filth spilling out. 

“You're my needy Pup, this ass is mine.” As Stiles spoke, he ripped Peters trousers down. 

Peter moaned into the bedspread, moving his legs apart for Stiles to see how much he needed him. His steel encased cock throbbed in the cock cage, and the pleasure-pain was almost too much for his control. 

“You going to wolf out on me, Pup?” Stiles’s hand came down hard across Peter’s bare ass cheeks, the impact jostling the plug. “Make you howl like the needy wolf you are.” Another slap. 

The plug was removed quickly and Peter nearly died in pleasure when he felt the hot length of Stiles’ cock push into him. 

“God, you're so tight, so good for me, Pup.” 

Peter was nearly incoherent, feeling the burn and stretch as Stiles slammed into him. A litany of ‘please’ and ‘yes’ was all Peter could say. 

Stiles pulled Peter upright, kneeling on the bed, one hand grasping Peters hip hard and the other around his throat. He set a punishing pace, his hips slamming into Peter, causing the bed to rock and Peter to howl. 

With each thrust, Stiles drove Peter closer to orgasm, but the damn cage impeded it. Peter was close to sobbing, the frustration was so strong. 

Stiles lent forward and whispered into Peter’s ear, “You know Chris is down there probably listening to me pound your ass, hearing me make you howl.” 

Peter could only nod words no longer working. 

“Maybe next time we could have Chris down on his knees sucking your cock while I eat you out, would you like that? I bet that beard of his would feel amazing against your skin, those lips wrapped around you.” 

Then it happened. The pre-come that had been steadily leaking through the bars of the cage turned pearly white and Peter howled as he came caged, the orgasm ripping through him. Stiles bit down on Peter's neck as he came too, flooding Peter with his come. 

Peter came back slowly, feeling Stiles rubbing a soft cloth over his abs and ass, the cock cage removed and cooling gel rubbed to his abused hole. He growled contentedly and let out a soft breath when he felt Stiles pull him close. 

Peppering soft kisses to Peter’s face, Stiles's eyes shone. “Thank you, love. That was perfect, you were so good for me.” 

Peter turned so he could face Stiles and smiled at the adoration in his mate's face. “Oh, I think I should be thanking you. Do you think he heard?” 

Stiles's eyes glowed briefly and he smiled. “He did. He may have a hard time looking at us in the morning, but he liked what he heard.”

When Peter came downstairs in the morning, Chris was still asleep on the sofa. Tufts of grey hair were sticking out from the bundled blanket, and Peter gave into temptation to run his fingers lightly through the grey strands, stifling a laugh when he heard a grumble from under the covers. 

“I’ll put the coffee on. Come into the kitchen when you're ready.” 

Peter wandered through to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, then got out bowls and went in search of the Danishes Stiles was fond of. 

The sound of shuffling feet made him turn. Christopher came into the kitchen, shirt rumpled and unbuttoned, affording Peter a lovely view. For a man in his forties, Christopher had kept himself in shape. Peter let his eyes linger on the silver trail of hair that extended down from Chris’s navel. Still half asleep, the hunter did not notice Peters open appraisal. 

Peter spotted a fresh bruise on the hunter's abs and signs of weight loss, he tutted and that brought Chris’s attention to him. 

Chris pulled out a chair and sat down. “What’s with the tutting, old wolf?” 

“You’re no spring chicken yourself, Argent. Don’t look at me like that, you’re not eating enough, Christopher.” Peter raised a judgmental eyebrow. “Or Sleeping enough.” 

“I don’t need much of either, and someone needs to be out patrolling and keeping an eye on Scott and his idiots. Your Pack has you and Stiles to keep them in line, Scott’s...” Chris sighed. 

Peter brought the plate of Danishes over to the kitchen table, giving the hunter a look and smiling when Chris picked up one of the pastries and started to nibble on it. 

“You shouldn't have to.” Peter winced as he sat down. He caught the smirk from the hunter. “When Stiles says he is going to make you feel it for a week he is not lying. The many hidden joys of Sparks.” 

Stiles came into the kitchen then, dressed only in a pair of light sleep pants, his hair mussed and love bites littering his skin. He looked as debauched as Peter felt. “Don’t complain Peter, your wolf loved every minute of it.” He leant over and kissed Peter slowly, well aware he was putting on a show for the hunter's benefit. “Morning, Alpha.” 

“Morning, love, and yes I did, I was just explaining to Chris the perks of being fucked by a spark.” Peter's eyes twinkled in amusement as he watched Stiles walk behind the hunter and run his fingertips across the man's shoulders, scenting him again. Stiles really was as territorial as any wolf. 

“Not the conventional topic for morning conversation, Peter,” Stiles scolded as he took a seat and reached for a Danish. 

“And when, sweetheart, have we have ever been conventional?” 

Peter stood to get Stiles a mug of coffee, taking the opportunity to lay his scent-mark upon the hunter’s shoulders, while catching the smirk Stiles threw his way. 

It was not lost on him how the hunter leaned into their touch each time they did it. Peter believed that Chris was not even aware of his own reactions.

“So, Christopher, what are you planning today?” Peter asked as he slid another Danish in front of him, smiling to himself as Chris took a bite. 

Placing the pastry down, Chris frowned. “I need to do a sweep of town, see if I can spot any of the Aeillo crew.” He pushed some of the crumbs around his plate. “I might put some calls in to see if any of my old contacts are still around, that is if they will talk to me.” 

Stiles looked over and gave Peter a questioning look before asking, “You don’t think they will speak to you?” 

Chris let out a loud sigh and pushed the plate away. "When I let my loyalties be known, I burnt any bridges with the Hunter community. Some, not many, agree with my decision, and I believe they want peace between our factions.” Chris ran a hand through his messy hair. “But they are in the minority, the extreme families like the Aiello's are in the majority. They hold a lot of power and sway.” 

Peter leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, chin tucked in his palms. "But you think there may be others that feel the way you do, willing to go against those in the council who back the Aiello's?” 

“I think so, I hope so. I have to try,” Chris answered, still toying with the flakes of pastry on his plate. 

Stiles stretched, letting out a soft groan. “I have to go open up the shop today, have to finish the salve for Mrs. Moses’s skin, and the soil spell for Mr. James.” 

Peter did not have to think long before an idea popped into his head. "I have all my casework caught up on, why don’t I go with you to that flea pit of a hotel you're staying at Christopher, and we grab your things and bring them back here. We can do a little subtle recon while Stiles is at the shop.” 

Peter had to stifle a laugh at the confused look on Christopher's face. Shaking his head, he leant back in his seat, giving the hunter a soft look. “Chris, we are well aware that you are living out of cheap hotels and your car. That is just stupid when we have a perfectly good guest room.” 

Chris looked like he was about to argue and Stiles cut in quickly, "It is sensible. We can pool our ideas and resources, and besides, would you turn down  _ your Alpha’s _ hospitality?” 

“I don’t know...” Chris murmured. 

“Of course you do, it’s a sensible decision,” Peter cut in, not giving Chris a chance to think it over. “I put out some fresh towels and clothes that should fit in the spare bedroom. Go take a shower, then we can head out.” 

Peter got up and bustled Chris towards the stairs, the hunter looking confused and still ready to argue. 

“Christopher, don’t think of arguing. You’re pack whether you realize it or not. Now hurry up and get cleaned up, we have hunters to snoop on.” 

A ghost of a smile passed Chris's lips and his brow arched. “Yes, Alpha.” 

Peter could not resist leaning closer into the hunter’s space. “Good boy.” He was rewarded with a subtle flush on the hunter's cheeks. 

Walking back into the kitchen, he saw Stiles glaring at him. “What?” Peter asked.

“I thought we decided we were going to take this slow and careful.” Stiles spoke softly but there was a hint of fire in his voice. 

Peter shrugged “Don’t you think it is better that Chris is here where we can keep an eye on him? And besides, what was the ‘your Alpha’ comment?” Peter arched a brow in challenge. 

He could see Stiles deflate a little. Sighing, Peter walked up and wrapped his arms around his mate. “You’re right, darling, we will take it slow. But I think it's for the best to have him here with us.” 

Stiles blew a soft raspberry into Peters hair. “I hate when you’re right, creeper wolf. I think we have to admit that he means a bit more to us than either of us are ready to admit.” 

“I’m always right; I thought we had established this.” Then Peter winced at the slap that was delivered to his still-tender backside. 

Chris spent the morning on the phone and computer, cajoling and arguing on behalf of the Hale pack with the various hunter factions. Peter felt pride at how vehement Chris was in the defense of his pack. How the man could not see that he was such a valued member of said pack still surprised Peter. He and Stiles were going to change that, leave Chris in no doubt where he belonged. 

Chris came into the kitchen where Peter had busied himself making them lunch. The angry scowl on the hunter's face gave Peter a clue to how the last phone call went. 

“Still no joy?” Peter slid a turkey sandwich in front of the hunter and pointed to the meal. “Eat.” 

“I don’t remember you being this bossy growing up,” Chris grouched as he started to eat. 

“Self-destructive hunters with a persecution complex bring it out in me,” Peter sassed back, enjoying the banter. 

Chris had dressed in the clothes that Peter had laid out, a soft worn grey Henley and jeans both hanging slightly loose on the hunter. The clothing still carried both Stiles’s and Peter’s scent and it made his wolf happy to have the hunter covered in those scents. Chris still had the underlying scent of depression and hurt but they were softened. There was a small one which Peter could only define as acceptance, very faint but there. 

Peter wondered what the hunter's scent would be like if the anger and hurt were stripped away, what hid beneath the smell of aconite and cordite. What would Chris smell like truly happy? Peter itched to find out. 


	2. Chapter 2

Peter sat in the car, glancing now and then at the non-descript shopfront. The windows had been papered over and it had an air of long disuse. Peter sat quietly worrying. Chris had made Peter promise to stay in the car. Chris was uncertain of the allegiances of the men he was meeting, and didn't want to risk confrontation with these unknown hunters. 

Peter’s patience wore thin. Getting out of the car, he stepped towards the building just as the front windows exploded outwards and Chris and another man fell through the glass trading blows. Chris looked to have the upper hand in the fight although bloody, landing one solid punch to the other man's nose. 

Chris stood on unsteady feet. “The Hale and McCall wolves are off-limits, you hear me?” he growled down at the other man. 

The fallen man let out a pained groan but nodded. 

Chris leaned down. “Make sure the Aellio clan get the message, anyone touches those werewolves and they will answer to me.” 

Peter leaned against the hood of the car, giving Chris a smirk and a shake of the head. “Hmm, meeting did not go as planned, Christopher?” 

Chris looked slightly abashed, wiping his hand across his forehead, wincing as he touched a cut. “Not quite, but I think I made my point.” 

“We are going to have a frank and long talk about these masochistic tendencies of yours, Christopher, but right now we are going to that flea pit you've been calling home and getting your things.” Peter stepped forward and cupped Chris’s face in his hand, tilting it to inspect the damage and drawing a little of the pain away. “Tempted to let you feel all your injuries as a lesson, but I don’t think that is the sort of pain you want or need.” 

Anyone other than Pete would not have noticed the slight hitch in Chris breathing or the delicate stutter the man's heart made.

“I am proud of you for defending our Pack, Christopher.” Peter watched fascinated as Chris's eyelids fluttered softly at the praise. Again, a less intuitive man would miss the signs. He dropped his hand and gave Chris a wink. “Let's get out of here before any of his friends show up,” he said, directing a glare at the hunter still laying sprawled on the ground. 

Chris looked sheepish and smirked. “Ahh, his friends won't be a problem. At least not at the moment.” 

Peter looked skyward and sighed. “Chris?” 

“The other four are tied up and knocked out in the back of the building.” Chris winced under Peters glare, moving to unlock the car. 

Peter shook his head getting in. “I see a very spanked ass and a cross Stiles in your future Argent, mark my words.” 

Chris snorted “He would not.” 

“Oh, he would and he would enjoy doing it,” Peter replied trying to keep his mind from visions of Chris backside lovely and rosy red. 

They had not been back at Peter’s apartment long when Stiles returned home. Sighing, he dropped a kiss to Peter’s head, then flopped in a tangle of limbs onto Peters opulent sofa. Stiles turned his head to look at Peter. “So how did the day go?” 

Setting down the book he had been reading, Peter ran his fingers through Stiles's hair making a soft humming sound. “The day was interesting,” he murmured.

Stiles leaned into Peter’s touch, making happy moans. “Define interesting. And where is Chris? He did come back with you, right?” 

Peter nodded. “He did. He is in fact upstairs having a shower as we speak.” 

Stiles moved so he was resting his head on his mate's lap, enjoying the warmth and doting touches. "How did the meeting with the Hunters go?” Stiles looked up and saw Peter frown. 

“It was more a free-for-all brawl. Chris asked me to stay in the car, less chance of a confrontation.” Peter snorted. “I should’ve listened to his heartbeat a little more closely. He fibbed, those hunters were wanting a brawl whether I was in tow or not.” 

Stiles sat up, a frown set on his brow. "Did he get hurt?” 

Peter shrugged. “A few bumps and cuts, most of those from crashing through a plate-glass window.” 

Stiles gaped and Peter laughed. “Don’t worry, most of the cuts were superficial, but he has a few new bruises. I may have mentioned to him we were going to sit down and talk about his need to keep putting himself in dangerous situations.” 

Stiles’s brow arched. “Oh? What did you say?” 

“I may have told him you would paddle his bottom red if he kept getting himself hurt.” Peter smirked at the heated look he got from Stiles. 

“How did he take that?” 

“I think,” Peter leaned in and kissed Stiles softly, “he liked the idea immensely if his scent was any indication.” 

Peter and Stiles traded lazy kisses for a while, just enjoying the quiet until a soft cough brought them out of their haze. Chris stood at the foot of the stairs looking a little lost. 

“Umm, I could head out, give you two some time to yourselves.” Chris shuffled a little, looking for his keys. 

“Nonsense, I was about to work out what to make us all for dinner.” Peter stood walking towards the kitchen. 

Chris gave a small smile. "Ah, if you’re sure. I don’t want to get in the way, I mean I don’t really know why you two want me to stay here in the first place. The motel wasn’t that bad.” 

Peter made a scandalized face. “Not that bad? Christopher Argent, the bed bugs had bed bugs, and the room smelled like...” Peter shook his head. “I cannot even describe what that room smelled like.” He shuddered dramatically. 

“It was a room with a lockable door, and that’s all I needed.” Chris shrugged, following Peter and a quietly laughing Stiles into the kitchen. 

Peter growled softly and handed a bag of potatoes to Chris. “No sweetheart, it is not all that you needed. Now peel those and then cut them in half. We’re having roast beef and Italian roast potatoes tonight.” 

Stiles moved about the kitchen, getting out pots and pans while Peter set about preparing the roast. He was pleased with the easy acceptance that Chris seemed to take Peter’s pushy caring. Stiles again marveled at how well the hunter slotted into their lives. 

“Stiles, get the large pot down for Christopher to put the potatoes in. Fill it with water and salt it, please.” 

Stiles noticed a soft smile on Chris face. “Being Alpha again suits him. He’s good at caring for the pack. Boyd and Erica come around every Wednesday night for pasta night and just to tell us how their week’s been. Softy Wolf loves it.” 

Peter rolls his eyes and tuts. "Well if Scott were a better Alpha and actually looked after his pack, I wouldn’t have to. Besides, Erica needs help with her resume, and I am trying to help Boyd get his work into Beacon Gallery.” 

Stiles sniggers and whispers to Christopher, “He is such a sappy wolf.” 

Chris snorts and keeps peeling, Stiles can see that the easy companionship and banter is taking some of the hard edges from his shoulders. He looks almost relaxed. 

Chris finished up peeling the potatoes and placed them on the stove. “Are you going to roast them in duck fat?” 

“Hmm, that is a splendid idea, thank you, Christopher,” Peter praised.

Blushing, Chris sat down. "I just remember years ago when I was small, my Mom liked to roast hers in the duck fat. She said it made them that little bit better.” 

“I remember. Your mother was a true goddess in the kitchen, and a good woman. I think you take after her,” Peter said offhandedly.

“Oh, that’s right, you two were friends when you were younger.” Stiles forgot sometimes just how much past history these two had. 

“Peter’s mother and Talia got along well with my mother, Josie; they were working together to end the unnecessary bloodshed. But after Mom was killed it all went to hell.” Chris sighed as he spoke. 

“How old were you when that happened?” Stiles asked. Reaching out, he gave Chris arm a comforting squeeze. Losing a beloved parent was something Stiles could commiserate with deeply. 

“It was just before Peter’s tenth birthday; I remember I had saved up my pocket money and gotten him the set of fantasy books he wanted. Mom was going to take us to the party, but she was killed a week before. I would have been twelve if I remember right.” Chris sat down and smiled sadly. “I still have those books tucked away somewhere. Gerard said there was no way a son of his was going to a dog's birthday, told me he would kill me if I ever set foot on Hale land again.” 

Peter walked past and ruffled Chris hair, “As I said you were your mother's son, not that monster’s.” 

“He tried to make me like him though,” Chris argued. 

“And lucky for us, he failed,” Peter shot back. 

Stiles could see Chris wanted to argue. Gently, he rested his hand on Chris’s forearm and shook his head. 

Chris stood up, glancing at both men. “I have to go out for a bit.” At Peter’s scowl Chris smiled. “Only to my storage shed, I will be back before dinner.” 

Stiles did not speak but nodded, thinking maybe Chris needed some time alone to clear his head. Peter huffed but acquiesced. “Fine, but don’t be late for dinner, and no getting into fights.” 

“You know, Peter, it's very hard to take you seriously while you’re wearing that apron.” Chris pointed at the pink and frilly gingham apron Peter wore and smirked as he walked out. 

“Don’t sass me, Christopher Argent, or no butterscotch pudding!” Peter yelled at Chris’s retreating back. 

“You can’t have yer pudding if yer doesn’t eat your meat!” Chris yelled before he walked out the front door. 

Stiles cracked up laughing. “He just sassed you with Pink Floyd, I am impressed.” 

“What's wrong with my apron, it’s a Mary Berry exclusive. She signed it for me.” Peter grumbled. 

Stiles stood up and pulled Peter into his arms, "Nothing is wrong with it, babe,” he said, letting his hands play with the frills of the apron. “I think our hunter was enjoying teasing you. And I think he wants to be happy, but he is confused by us, by this, and maybe a little afraid to let himself be cared for,” Stiles murmured into Peter’s skin as he held his wolf. 

Peter narrowed his eyes as he thought. “I know we decided to take things slow, let things progress at their own pace, but I really think we need to show Chris what we want. His scent is muddled and he’s confused. I think we need to be honest with him.” 

“All of it?” Stiles asked, knowing the answer already. 

“Yes, all of it. We want him as part of our lives, our pack, and our bed,” Peter reaffirmed.

“And our lifestyle? You're not afraid of how he will react when he knows that you, Alpha Peter Hale, submit to me?” Stiles asked worriedly.

Peter laughed. “Oh, my darling boy, I think he has already guessed that. And no, I don’t think that is going to be an issue. I think our dear Christopher will enjoy it.” 

Just before Peter was ready to serve up dinner, Chris arrived back. Neither Peter nor Stiles acknowledged the relived breaths they blew out. A small green gear bag was slung over Chris's shoulder but neither man made a comment. 

The dinner was as Peter promised: delicious. The three devoured the food, Peter visibly preening when Chris asked for seconds. 

After the dishes were put away, Chris went and retrieved his bag, pulling out two cloth-covered objects. He unwrapped the first, an oblong shape covered in faded wrapping paper depicting the moon and happy wolves. Handing it over to Peter, Chris smiled. “Better late than never.” 

Carefully unwrapping the parcel, Peter’s eyes shone. " _ Oh _ , Chris, it’s the Belgariad.” 

“I remembered that Talia got so cross because you kept stealing her copies.” Chris shrugged, trying to his best not to look pleased with Peter’s reaction. 

The next cloth-wrapped parcel was larger and heavy, and he handed it to Stiles, who slowly unwrapped the faded linen cloth. Inside was an ornately carved box with small storage drawers. Designs of fishes and lilies decorated it. 

“Is this Nemeta wood?” Stiles asked, fingers tracing the box reverently. 

“It is. My mom found it years before she married Gerard. She said it came from a small wood in France. She used to store her charms and mixtures in it. I thought you would give it a good home.” Chris's eyes shone with the memories the box stirred. 

“This is should stay with you; I mean, it was your mom’s.” Stiles lifted the lid atop the box, fingers tracing the carvings. 

“No, I think she would have approved of me giving it to you.” 

Peter looked over to Stiles and nodded. Both men got up and walked around the table to where Chris sat. Pulling him out of his seat, Peter hugged him first, then Stiles. 

“I think, sweet man, it is time for us to talk, to lay our cards on the table,” Peter said in a soft voice. 

Stiles nodded, still hugging Chris from behind. 

Chris nodded, then pouted, a truly incongruous look. “Wait, I was promised pudding.” 

Stiles grinned. “If you’re a good boy, I will let Peter feed it to you later, OK?” 

Mollified, Chris smiled and followed the two through to the lounge. 

“I think, Christopher, you have become aware that our interest in you is not just platonic. We both find we care about you a great deal,” Peter spoke quietly, not rushing.

Chris nodded but did not speak, allowing for Peter to continue. He could see that both men were wanting to talk, so Chris held back his comments until he knew they were finished. 

“We both want you to be part of us, to care for and love, Christopher,” Peter said softly. 

“Peter and I -- as you are aware -- are mates, but we also share a unique dynamic,” Stiles began. “While Peter is my Alpha, here at home he submits to me. Peter enjoys being able to let go of the pack’s pressures and to just be himself, and I enjoy being able to give Peter what he needs from time to time. But he is not truly submissive, or to put it another way, he would only ever submit for me.” 

Peter smiled. "I also find the need to be in control from time to time, I have a need to take the reins from time to time, and my wolf clamors to devote a lot of time showing you what it would mean to be ours, Christopher.” Peter’s eyes flashed and Chris did not find the sight of the Alpha red unsettling. Instead, he felt a liquid warmth pooling in his belly at the sight. 

Chris looked at Peter and saw the faint blush on the wolf’s cheeks. He could understand the need to have someone take control, to let your mind be free. He had never really had trust in any partners to allow that to happen, and he was a little envious of Peter. 

Stiles sat forward in the chair. “The D/s dynamic of our relationship is something that we would not rush you into, there would be negotiations and we want to earn your trust. It's something Peter and I would love to explore with you, we feel it would suit you immensely.”

Chris nodded. He'd read about D/s dynamics and was not a prude or some naive virgin, but he also understood the point Stiles was making. But being honest with himself, he wanted that. 

“ _ If _ I wanted that, what would that entail?” Chris licked his lips as he spoke, unable to take his eyes of Stiles. The young man seemed to exude control and confidence when he was like this. 

“All Peter and I ask for is submission, but that doesn’t mean you are less than us Christopher. You are our equal, you hold the power to stop this at any time.” Stiles spoke kindly but firmly, and the strength in his voice had Chris’s stomach doing flip flops. 

His mouth went dry when he looked to Peter and then Stiles. Both were sitting across from him, concern and affection clear on both their faces. 

Could he finally let himself go with these two, finally free himself of his father's toxic lineage? But still a little voice in his head whispered:  _ “They just want to use you, mark you debase you, ruin you... You’ll just be another toy for them.”  _

“How would this work? What would I be to you, a booty call?” Chris asked, suddenly afraid of the answer. He looked down to where his hands were still gripping his thighs. 

Peter stepped forward and Chris felt his face lifted so he was looking at the Alpha. “No sweetheart, not a booty call. You are much, much more than that.” 

Chris watched as Peter looked to Stiles who then nodded in silent understanding. Stiles came over to the sofa and sat to one side of Chris and Peter the other. 

“Your submission would not just be sexual, you would allow Peter and I to look after you, keep you from harming yourself.” Stiles looked pointedly at the cuts and grazes on Chris's hands and bruising on his torso. 

“I didn’t do that to myself!” Chris huffed out. “I don’t need to be _ babysat _ .” 

“You put yourself in a dangerous position on purpose, allowed yourself to be hurt when I could have helped you deal with those hunters.” Peter sighed, sounding frustrated. 

“You are an incredibly brave man and a skilled hunter. We admire and respect that, but you take too many needless risks,” Stiles spoke alongside him. 

“Why is my life more important than one of the Pack? If by stepping in I stop one of the pack getting hurt or killed, then it’s a win in my book,” Chris growled out. He sat back and crossed his arms. 

“I call bullshit. You think no one will care, that your life has no meaning, and that is  _ bullshit, _ Christopher Argent,” Peter snarled. “You want bruises and marks to prove you’re alive? That you have some use? Then let us put them there, not some rabid hunter or blood-crazed Wendigo.” 

Chris shivered at the implications of Peters words, that they both wanted him, that they cared. Chris mind swirled. He had dreamt of this, had laid awake at night in his ratty hotel room mulling over his feelings for Peter and Stiles, confused at his attraction to both of them, and guilty at wanting what they had together. At wanting both of them. 

They were both so strong, both so capable and commanding in their own way. Peter, as was his due, made a formidable Alpha, the sort that Beacon Hills had needed. And Stiles had gone from a gangly, cute, mole-dotted kid to a strong, confident young man, power dripping from his fingers. Chris could not lie, he needed them so badly his head hurt. He needed and wanted more than he ever had with Victoria. 

But could he let them in, could he let them take down those walls he had so carefully crafted since he was a small boy? He’d hid the weakness lest his father had found it and exploited it as he had with Kate. Looking at the concerned faces of Peter and Stiles, realization crashed down on him.  _ They would never do that to him. _ His mouth hung open in a silent ‘Oh’. 

“Close your mouth, Chris, you are giving our Alpha all sorts of ideas.” Stiles had moved closer, his legs pulled up sideways on the couch as he pressed closer to Chris. 

Peter pouted. “But it's such a pretty mouth.” 

With a daring he didn't know he had, Chris smirked. “If it's so pretty, Alpha, why don’t you kiss it?” 

Peter's eyes flared red and he pressed closer to Chris, pushing him back against Stiles, who wound his arms around Chris’s waist, pulling him against his broad chest. 

“Is that what you want, pretty, for your Alpha to kiss you? And then would you let Stiles take his fill? The poor man has been itching to get his hands and mouth on you.” Peter's face was close enough that Chris could feel his heated breaths against his skin. 

“Pot, meet kettle,” Stiles murmured behind Chris. 

“Yes-yes, please.” Chris sounded incredibly sweet, and who was Peter to deny such a sweet plea? 

Peter kissed like he did everything in life, demanding and well, claiming Chris’s mouth he set about tasting and teasing, drawing whimpers out of Chris that he would normally be ashamed of. When Peter licked into his mouth, he found his own tongue responding and he moaned when he felt the brush of Peter’s tongue against his own. 

Stiles was not left idle. He took it upon himself to start nipping and kissing along Chris's throat. Stiles’s clever hands had spread Chris’s shirt open, leaving his chest bare. He arched back against Stiles when he felt those clever fingers trace his nipples, then pinch lightly at the erect nubs. 

“Sensitive, aren't we?” Stiles spoke against Chris's hair; Chris could only pant into Peter's mouth in response. It had been so long since anyone had touched him and even longer since it was with any kind of affection. 

Peter sat back, his eyes hooded and dark. “Stiles, do you think we should continue this upstairs? If that is amenable to you, pet?” Peter stroked Chris’s beard, then gave it a light tug. 

“We won't go any further than you’re comfortable with, but I do share Peter’s feelings. Getting you upstairs, spread out on the bed, is a very good idea.” Stiles turned Chris’s face so he could kiss him softer, less demanding than Peter, but still claiming. 

When Stiles pulled away, he smiled and Chris's heart did a thump.  _ Dive in headfirst don’t overthink this. _ “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Excellent.” Peter grinned wickedly and hauled Chris to his feet, dragging him to the stairs. Stiles, laughing at Peter’s eagerness, followed close behind. 

Standing in Stiles and Peter’s bedroom, Chris felt a wave of nerves. “So full disclosure: it's been a while since I... Um.” 

Peter came up and hugged Chris, a knowing smile on his face. “How long since you have been with another man, sweetheart?” Peter ran his hands down Chris, soothing some of his nerves by his touch. 

Chris tilted his head to allow Peter to scent him as he thought. “Hmm, it would have been my first year of college, I met Antoney through a friend. We just clicked, you know?” Chris let out a soft sigh leaning into Peter’s hold. 

"That was the first and last time I truly was able to be myself. I was so fucking happy. Then Gerard found out.” Chris let out a growl. “Gerard beat me until I couldn’t stand, screaming that he would rather I sleep with a damn wolf than be a father to a ‘damn faggot’.” Chris wiped angry tears away with the heel of his hand, shuddering. “That night, he threw me on a plane and sent me to the Family in France to let them beat me into a man.” 

“I think until Allison, I forgot how to be happy. But even then, Gerard, Kate and even Victoria managed to poison that.” Chris looked over at Stiles and smiled a bittersweet smile. “When I lost Ally, I thought I had lost my chance for something good from my life.” 

At Stiles’s pained look, Chris reached out and held Stiles’s hand. “I never blamed you, Stiles, I never could, just like I could never really blame Peter for his actions. My family brought so much pain to those around us.” Chris looked down at where his hand linked with Stiles. “I don’t know if I deserve happiness.” 

Stiles made a soft sound in his throat and stepped forward, embracing Chris. Peter was holding on from behind, so Chris was bracketed by both men. He had never felt more cherished. 

“Is it possible to resurrect the man and kill him again, Stiles?” Peter asked with a growl, hugging Chris tighter. 

Stiles’s eyes darkened. “I wish I could, truly I do, but what we can and will do is show Chris how much he deserves to be loved and cherished. We’ll show him he is our good boy.” 

Chris felt a shudder run through his body at those words. He wanted that, wanted to be good and to earn this. 

Chris had a sudden urge to drop to his knees and beg Stiles to use him. It had been years, but god he wanted to do that. He wanted to take them both, show them how good he could be for them, to earn their praise.

“You smell amazing, Christopher. Whatever were you just thinking about?” Peter ran his nose along Chris’s collarbone, pulling Chris’s shirt off. Chris let his hands roam across Peters broad chest, enjoying being able to touch, letting his fingers skate along Peters's waist. 

Chris leaned in and kissed Peter hungrily while Stiles stepped back and stripped out of his clothes. Chris, too lost in the kisses with Peter, didn’t notice he was being walked back towards the bed until he felt the mattress against the back of his legs. 

He could feel the hard press of Stiles’s warm body behind him, and Peter, in front of him, looking at him like he was something wonderful. Chris suddenly felt like he was the food at a very exclusive buffet. 

“Before we start, sweetheart, I want you to promise us you will tell us or use a safe word if you feel unsure or uncomfortable. We want to take our time and enjoy that glorious body of yours,” Peter purred into Chris's ear. 

. Turning Chris around so he faced Peter, Stiles wrapped his arms around Chris's torso. “Be a good boy and let Peter take care of you.” Stiles fingers found one of Chris nipples and pulled on it gently. Chris let out a soft moan. 

“Be as loud as you want, baby, we want to hear it,” Stiles crooned against his neck. 

“I'm not going to last long.” Chris blushed as he let out another moan as Stiles played with his nipples. 

“That's OK baby, you can come whenever you want tonight, I'm sure we will be able to wring quite a few orgasms out of you before the night is over.” The dark promise in Stiles’s voice made Chris shudder. 

Chris watched with hooded eyes as Peter lowered himself to his knees and begun to unbuckle Chris belt. Behind him, Stiles began to lick and nibble along Chris's neck. Chris leaned back into Stiles’s surprisingly strong grip while Peter lowered Chris's jeans and boxers with a well-practiced movement. Then he felt the slap of his cock against his belly. 

“Oh my, what a delicious surprise,” Peter said, breath ghosting over Chris’s exposed cock, making Chris shiver. 

Stiles laughed softly. “Don’t tease him, Peter, or I will have to gag and bind you, and then you will just have to watch while I take our hunter apart.” 

Chris let out a deep groan as Peter took him into his mouth, hips wanting to thrust into the incredible warmth that surrounded his cock, but Stiles's hands held his hips firmly. 

“Hold still, baby, let Peter take care of you,” Stiles whispered, his hands stroking soothing circles on Chris's stomach. The dual sensations of Peter’s mouth and tongue and Stiles's hands had Chris moaning softly. When Peter hollowed his cheeks and sucked firmly, Chris nearly whited out from the warmth and pleasure. Stiles’s steady touch had him careening towards orgasm. 

“ _ Oh god _ , I'm going to come,” Chris moaned out lowly. Peter took that as permission to suck him down deeper. The tight constrictions of Peter's throat milked him. Stiles bit down softly on Chris’s neck, sucking a love bite into the soft skin. Chris came with a deep, primal groan. 

Peter rose gracefully, kissing Chris then Stiles. Chris looked down at Peter’s straining erection, licking his lips he ran his hand down Peter’s muscled torso, taking in the beauty of the man before him "Can I return the favor?” 

Peter's eyes flicked to Stiles, who was still holding Chris against his broad chest. “Darling, that would be wonderful, but what I would really love to do is fuck you while I watch you take Stiles in your pretty mouth.” 

Chris’s breath hitched, already imagining how it would feel. 

Stiles kissed Chris’s neck. “Would you like that, baby?” 

Chris nodded, the thought making him hard again. He felt Stiles grip him before he was spun around to face the man. 

“Words, baby. I need you to tell me.” 

Chris looked between the two men and smiled, his heart feeling full. “I want that. I want you both.” 

Chris smiled wider when Peter took his face in his hands. “And we want you” 

Stiles threw back the covers on the bed and then sat against the headboard, beckoning Chris forward. Chris, feeling bold, crawled up the bed, eyes focusing on Stiles impressive erection. Stiles chuckled darkly. “Do you want this, sweetheart?” 

Chris nodded, words lost in the haze of lust. He took in Stiles in all his naked glory, the long athletic lines, the broad chest and shoulders. Peter was muscular, his thick thighs and neck had fueled more than a few late-night fantasies. 

Stiles reached out and pulled Chris the rest of the way, locking their mouths together in a heated kiss. When the kiss finally broke, Chris started to nibble and lick at Stiles's neck, following the long line down, until he hovered over Stiles weeping cock. 

In the background, he could hear Peter moving about the room, but then his weight settled behind Chris and he stroked his back. “You going to make it good for Stiles, baby? Show him what a good Pet you are,” Peter murmured. 

Chris nodded eagerly, mouth already watering at the thought of tasting Stiles. He lent down and tentatively licked along Stiles length, letting his tongue trace along the underside of Stiles’s heated cock. Getting confident, he began to suckle gently on the head and was rewarded with words of praise rumbling from Stiles. 

“That is perfect, baby, go slow, that’s it, my pretty hunter.” Stiles groaned and Chris felt his hands in his hair; they didn’t force him, but rested there, gently guiding Chris as he explored Stiles’s length. 

He felt as Peter moved him, maneuvering his hips and knees and nearly choked on Stiles when he felt Peters warm tongue at his entrance. 

Chris lost himself in the sensations of Stiles’s warm cock moving in his mouth and Peter’s clever fingers and tongue opening him up. 

“Look at you, so beautiful and perfect, taking Peter’s fingers so well, do you like that baby?” Stiles spoke and all Chris could do was bob his head in agreement as he took Stiles to the root. 

Saliva pooling and spilling out his mouth as he took as much of Stiles as he could, desperate to please him. 

At the first insistent pressure of Peters cockhead pushing at his entrance he moaned around Stiles, causing the younger man to growl in pleasure.

"That's it, sweetheart, let me in,” Peter cooed as he pushed in, going slowly unti he bottomed out, then circling his hips shallowly eliciting another moan from Chris. 

Chris was swimming in an intoxicating pool of lust and warmth with Stiles growling praise as he came. Chris swallowed, savoring the taste, while flares of pleasure at pleasing Stiles zinged through him. 

As Stiles came, Peter’s movements increased, unerringly hitting that sweet spot inside of Chris. Peter's hands held his hips tight, and the feeling of being owned, possessed, made Chris relax further. Bowing his back, letting his knees spread wider, he encouraged Peter deeper. 

Chris rested his head on Stiles’s chest, mouthing at it while Peter took his pleasure. The murmured praise from both men had Chris tumbling into a soft headspace he had never felt before. 

His second orgasm rolled through him like a freight train and he felt as Peter followed shortly after with a growl and teeth gently holding his neck. 

He floated in the good, warm place for a while, barely aware of Stiles and Peter moving him about the bed and a warm cloth wiping him down. He came back slowly being petted and kissed by both men. 

“Ah, there is our little hunter.” Peter smiled gently down, a hand carding through his hair. 

“Not little,” Chris pouted but with no real heat. The hand in his hair felt wonderful. 

“Sit up, sweetheart,” Stiles spoke from behind him as he lifted Chris up and gently pushed a bottle of water to his lips. “Drink.” 

Chris drank the entire bottle down and didn't fuss when Stiles moved him so he was bracketed by both of them. 

Stiles spoke as he cuddled Chris from behind. “You were so perfect for us.” 

“I was good,” Chris murmured from where his face was nestled into Peter’s chest. 

“Oh, Christopher, you were wonderful,” Peter praised. 

“I'm yours now?” He murmured sleepily, faintly aware of being kissed on the cheek by both men. 

“Always.” 

“Hey, I didn’t get my pudding,” Chris mumbled and smirked when he felt Peter’s chest rise and fall with laughter. 

“You can have it in the morning. Now sleep,” Stiles answered, smiling into Chris’s neck. 


End file.
